


Isolation

by arcaninety



Category: Avatar (TV), Avatar: The Last Airbender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Avatar & Benders Setting, Avatar OC, F/M, Fire Nation, Firebending & Firebenders, Firebending OC, Gaang, Mostly Canon Relationships - Freeform, OC Shila, Shila means "fire" in Inuit, Violence, Zuko x OC, Zuko/oc - Freeform, aside from zuko ofc, avatar aang, bc idk, but this might change, new to ao3, shila, slight AU, this is a zuko x OC story
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-01-08
Updated: 2017-01-08
Packaged: 2018-09-15 19:33:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,404
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9252641
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/arcaninety/pseuds/arcaninety
Summary: She was an assassin. He was a banished Prince. He shouldn't mean anything to her. So why couldn't she bring herself to just kill the hotheaded idiot?





	1. Black Snow (Prologue)

**Author's Note:**

> A quick excerpt, if the initial summary didn't entirely sell you:
> 
> "Me, afraid of nothing? That's not true." Shila slumped, the pause that followed having a distinct sadness to it. "In the end," she said quietly. "I think what everyone is truly afraid of is being alone. Isolation might keep us safe from other people, but it's when we're alone that our true nature reveals itself. The person we all least understand is ourselves." She was looking down at her hands again, as she often did, her brow furrowed as if concentrating on something no one else could see. "I guess that's what I'm afraid of, at least."
> 
> "Of being alone?" he asked, her unusually somber tone making him uneasy.
> 
> "No, I... I haven't really figured out who I am yet, so I guess..." she sighed heavily, and for a moment her companion feared that she wouldn't answer at all. "I guess I'm afraid of finding out."
> 
> -x-
> 
> Disclaimer: I don't own anything but my OCs. Rated M for graphic depictions of violence, bit of a sexual abuse warning, and there may be some steamy (consensual) scenes here and there. Please read at your own discretion, and thanks in advanced for giving this a shot!

 

* * *

 

In the Southern Water Tribe, no omen was quite as ill-fated as the falling of black snow. It sent a shadow over the earth, polluting the waters and covering the ground in heavy black soot that such a corner of the earth had never known.

Before the war, that is. For generations, beginning with Sozin’s conquest eighty-five long years ago, the Fire Nation had terrorized the once great people of the Southern Water Tribe. They burned villages to the ground, slaughtering men, women, and children alike. They treated the people like game to be hunted, as if the desolation of an entire society was some sort of sadistic game for them to excel at. They had managed to break up the people of the South, leaving nothing but scattered, war-torn villages full of broken families.

The young woman had never known anything but this existence; her father having gone to war many years ago, and her mother having passed during the birth of a sibling that would never live, she had experienced complete isolation at a young age. However, despite her struggles, she had always counted herself lucky. She’d never seen black snow.

The last water bender of the Southern Water Tribe had been taken years before her birth, and no word of another had been spoken of since. The raids slowed when they lost their purpose, but never did they truly disappear. Tales of fire and death often reached the girl’s village. Members of her village would report of smoke in the distance, but they’d always been lucky enough to not have been the source.

The young woman had often thought of how selfish it must be to count themselves lucky when hearing of the misfortune of others, but she too was thankful that they had avoided such trauma.

Southern lore often told about the idea of balance and justice in the universe. It was said that the spirits always struggled and fought for equilibrium in the world, and the wrongs of a person will always be righted someday. Despite their many hardships, the young woman had always hoped that true justice did exist in the world. That she may one day be at peace. That is, however, until the snow fell black on their tribe.

Days before the waters were painted grey, some of the men had returned with more tales of fire and destruction in distant villages. As always, the people shouted their curses at the Fire Nation, and acted as though the attack truly angered them, but deep down, they all thanked the spirits that it wasn’t them. The destruction of another in their place was welcomed in times of war. No help was ever sent, not that they had much to offer.

Their distant neighbor’s struggles soon became their own. It was so sudden, so terrifying, to see black flurries cascading down on them. Hours after the first sightings of black snow, two Fire Navy ships crashed into their shores. Terrible men in angry masks poured out of the great black ships, bringing with them their destructive element. They didn’t say a word before they began their attack. There was no need for them to speak, for they had no reason for what they were about to do.

Terrified, the young woman had fled the scene of the fighting, and instead retreated to her small tent on the outskirts of the village. Diving inside, she pulled her knees up to her chest and prayed silently to the spirits for help, begging them to forgive her for whatever it is her village was being punished for. ‘ _Please,’_ she had begged. ‘ _Please show us mercy. Do not let them kill us all.’_

She listened to the fighting rage on in her village as she cowered behind fur walls. Not many in her village were skilled in combat, the most powerful men having left for war. She listened to their screams, wondering who’s eyes she would find staring blankly up at the sky that night. If she ever lived to see them, that is.

Tears ran down her face. ‘ _Haven’t we suffered enough?’_ she thought frantically. The world had taken everything from her, and now it planned on claiming her life.

It seemed like she had sat there for hours, waiting. She listened to the crackle of flames and the sounds of death coming from deeper in her village, and despite their horror, she hoped that she would remain safe and undiscovered.

As the fighting seemed to die down, and her life seemed secure, an armored hand pulled back the flaps to her tent. A tall, terrible man with fire in his eyes looked down at her.

The young woman began to shake. “Please,” she begged, her voice sounding weak and afraid. “Don’t kill me.”

The man smirked horribly, his lip curling. “You’re pretty for a Water Tribe whore,” he said, kicking her so that she would fall onto her back. He fell to his knees, summoning a knife of flames as he did so. He hovered over her, placing the hot knife near her neck. “Be a good girl and I’ll see about letting you live.”

The flames disappeared, and the man instead placed a heavy forearm over her throat. She closed her eyes as she felt his free hand pull up her dress and tear away at her underclothes. She tried to call for help, but no words would come.

She didn’t open her eyes until she felt his pressure recede. She heard the crunch of his heavy boots on the snow, and then he was gone, leaving her half naked on the floor. She had laid there for a while, completely still, as her body ached for the virtue that was stolen from her. Despite her anguish, no tears would come. She simply felt tired.

She remained still well into the night before she decided to stir, dressing herself and walking slowly out of her tent. Her body shook, but she didn’t feel particularly cold.  The air hung heavy with the stench of smoke and burning flesh, and she passed dead bodies as she walked towards the center of town.

Near the main fire, where the members of her village gathered daily, she found the small fraction of the villagers that remained. They huddled in silence, staring at the ground.

“What will we do now?” the young woman asked, her voice cracking. Suddenly she felt tears spring to her eyes, as if speaking had brought her back into her harsh reality.

Buniq, an old woman who had helped to support her after she was orphaned, lifted her head. “Now, child,” she began wearily. “We survive.”

* * *

 

It took an entire month to rebuild, most of their efforts going into disposing of the dead and re-homing the remaining children. The village had lost many of its supplies to fire, but considering their greatly reduced population, there was more than enough to go around. Rebuilding truly meant downsizing.

The young woman felt tired almost all of the time, the smallest of tasks leaving her exhausted. She had confided in Buniq weeks after the attack, telling her of the trauma that plagued her. Buniq told her that her exhaustion was most likely due to the stress of what had happened.

But after an entire month having passed, with her feeling exhausted and dizzy, she began to question if the unthinkable had happened. Her moon blood had yet to come, and she often felt sick to her stomach. She allowed for another month to pass in silence, terrified of the abomination that may be growing inside of her. After nearly two months of fear, she went back to Buniq.

She told the old woman what she believed: that she was pregnant. Buniq remained silent for a time, pressing her lips together and staring into the fire. “That man,” she said. “You’re certain he’s the father?”

The young woman began to cry. “Yes,” she whispered, clutching her stomach. “I’m certain. I was a virgin until he stole that from me.”

Buniq closed her eyes for a time before speaking again. “This man, was he a fire bender?”

“Yes. He threatened me with a blade of fire.”

“This child cannot live,” Buniq declared immediately. The young woman was shocked to hear the venom in her voice. “Fire is strong. We cannot have one of them among us.”

Her arms tightened around her abdomen. “This cannot be undone. What can I do?” she asked.

Buniq looked at her, her expression sad but her eyes hard. “The child will have to be killed upon its birth,” she said. “Before the others see its eyes and kill the both of you themselves.”

The woman’s blood ran cold. She had cursed everyone that could possibly be blamed for the life that stirred within her, but to kill this child? She had never truly thought that she would be able to do that. It was half of her blood and it grew within her. “I can’t,” she sobbed. “Part of me wants to hate this child for the crimes of its father, but I can’t kill one of my own.”

Buniq let out a sigh. “Child, you know I’ve loved you as my own,” she said, her voice quavering slightly. “But I cannot allow a child of fire to live in this village. It is a danger to us all. Its father’s nature will over power your efforts. If you intend to keep this child, you must leave.”

“L-leave?” she stammered. “But where would I go?”

“To the Earth Kingdom, I suppose,” Buniq said. “I could give you provisions and one of our remaining canoes, but nothing more. If you will not dispose of this… Abomination, I will have no choice but to banish you from our village.”

The young woman wiped the tears from her cheeks, looking Buniq straight in the eyes. “No! No more death, I…” the woman took a deep breath, feeling stronger than she had since the attack. “I cannot kill my own child. I know that I should, but I can’t. I will leave as soon as possible.”

The villagers provided her with provisions enough to survive the journey to the nearest Earth Kingdom territory, along with an outdated map and whatever money they could scrape together. Many begged her not to throw her life away for the monster that the Fire Nation had cursed her with, but she ignored them all. Her mind was made up.

She was at sea for weeks, chewing on cold seal jerky and carefully following the stars. Every night she prayed to the spirits for her safe arrival, and every morning she saw nothing but open water on the horizon.

When her supplies began to run low, and her belly began to bulge and demand more food than she had previously needed, she began to give up hope. One morning, when she woke, she was too tired to get up from her makeshift bed on the floor. She instead stared up at the sky, letting her boat drift and contemplating throwing herself into the ocean. Until then, as if by divine intervention, a bird flew overhead.

“Birds need land,” she said out loud, her voice rough from lack of use. She sat up abruptly, eagerly scanning the horizon. She spotted a small shoreline and she began to row, not bothering to think of where she may be headed.

She collapsed onto the sand when she tugged her boat ashore, rolling in the earth and laughing. Never before had she been happier to be on solid ground. After a bit of exploring, she stumbled across a small village in the center of the tiny island. The apparent authority figure approached her almost immediately, but thankfully wasn’t inclined to use brute force. A pregnant woman in dirty clothes was no threat.

She learned that she had, thankfully, come across an isolated Earth Kingdom village. An old man kept order over the small population, and he graciously invited her to recover in his home. She told him that her village had been destroyed by the Fire Nation, leaving her and her child homeless. This wasn’t entirely untrue, but she had left out the horrific tale of her child’s origin. She could not survive another trip overseas, not in her current condition.

Through the help of the old man, the woman was able to set up a small home for herself in the village. She kept to herself, being friendly towards the villagers but never allowing herself to become particularly attached to any of them. She worked hard in the fields where the villagers grew their food, doing whatever tasks her pregnant body allowed her to do. She grew larger as the months passed, until eventually she was too large to even bend over. She had to cease working then, instead focusing on the smaller tasks that needed to be done.

She found that work helped take her mind off of the child. Despite her determination to keep it alive, she found that she was afraid of it. The product of rape and violence, and a child of water and fire. She feared that Buniq was right, and that her child would be a monster.

As the birthing time approached, the young woman took to mending clothes for whoever needed them mended. It was a job that allowed her to sit, for her aching feet made standing difficult. One day, as she sewed patches onto old winter coats, her water broke.

Panicked, she got up and stumbled outside, making her way towards the home of the old woman who delivered children for the villagers. One thing that terrified her more than the child itself was the thought of having to give birth alone.

The woman took her inside immediately, laying her down on clean bedding. Birth was a pain unlike one she had ever felt before, but there were no complications. As the young woman let out a final scream, a tiny cry filled the air. The old woman lifted the child, wiping away the afterbirth with a towel and severing the cord that connected it to its mother.

“She’s beautiful,” the old woman said, handing the tiny thing to its mother.

The woman looked down at her newborn. The little girl was squirming, her little face scrunched and red as she screamed her lungs clear. The new mother began to cry, gently stroking her child’s tiny head. The fear that had filled her once before receded, and she felt a happiness unlike anything she'd ever experienced.

“What will you call her?” the old woman asked.

Never having put much thought into a name, the woman pondered for a moment before speaking.

“Shila. Her name will be Shila.”

* * *

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is just the backstory to the main character’s mother. I didn’t name her on purpose, considering she won’t be an active part of the main story line. The rest of the story will be told from Shila’s point of view. When she’s much older, of course. The next chapter will be jumping ahead about fifteen years. Hope you’ve enjoyed the first mini-chapter, despite how it was all setup. Please comment if you have any concerns/praise/et cetera! I’m completely new to AO3 so I would love the feedback if you have the time.
> 
> (Some Disclaimers: I do not own the Avatar series, obviously, but I do own my OCs, so no reuse without permission please! And as you can tell, this AU will be significantly darker than the original story... Expect some of the things you would genuinely expect in wartime: rape, violence, murder, famine, disease, et cetera. Please don't continue if these things may upset you!)
> 
> OK, that's all I think? Thanks so much for reading, and please let me know if I have any outstanding issues in continuity/grammar/spelling. I'm editing and writing it on my own. Let me know what you think so far! (ngl, kinda nervous posting my first story here)


	2. Fire and Blood

The building was in flames when she arrived. Bright and red, they licked hungrily at the space, greedily consuming all around it. She could hear the laughter of her siblings from beyond the destruction, followed by the screams of her target.

She wrinkled her nose in disgust as she walked calmly amongst the flames. The heat brushed against her skin, seeming to reach out to her, as if in recognition of her strength. Unlike the others, she was worthy of her element. Fire, she knew, was not easily controlled. You could not simply wield it; you must demand obedience, your presence should dominate the hatred of fire.

She sighed, lifting her arms slightly to brush her fingertips affectionately over the flames. "You must forgive them," she said. "I'm afraid they will never learn from their ignorance."

Another sigh. They _couldn't_ learn – not as she had. She was the only of Father Satish's children to have been kissed by fire. The rest were lucky to produce their feral flames, but they could hope for nothing more. It wasn't often that a true Child of Fire was born into the world.

She could smell the scene before she could see it: singed flesh and blood. It was an odor she was quite familiar with, although that did not lessen her distaste for it. Behind the burnt wreckage of what once had been a home sat a courtyard etched entirely in stone, the only aspect of the property that stood impervious to the flames. It was here she found her siblings, covered in gore and torturing the remaining members of the household.

They would never learn. Silently, she drew a blade, throwing it with an easy flick of the wrist and lodging it into the throat of one of her siblings. The girl sputtered, blood trickling from her mouth as she collapsed to the ground. The remaining siblings looked around the courtyard with wide eyes before their shocked gaze finally settled on her.

"My Lady Shila!" the remaining children chorused, stooping into respectful bows, immediately ceasing their unsightly behavior. The scene was now silent, aside from the crackling of hungry flames and the whimpers of their targets.

Shila walked slowly, almost lazily, towards the group, her expression a mask of indifference. "You dishonor us," she said quietly, stopping before them. The targeted family stared at her with wide eyes, or at least what was left of them: the servants had been slaughtered, along with what appeared to be the family's grandparents. Now all that remained was a young boy and his two parents.

"M-my Lady, I – " one began, only to be cut off by Shila's glare.

"I have no patience for your insolence," she continued, her voice so soft it was almost lost in the sounds of destruction. "Your weakness is a constant hindrance. If Father Satish would allow it, I would kill you all right here."

Several heads snapped up in surprise, their eyes wide with fear.

"Yes, I would very much like to kill you." Shila stooped beside the body of her fallen sister, brushing a strand of black hair from her face before retrieving the blade from her neck. She was not a wasteful woman. "But I'm afraid that isn't an option. You will put out these flames and search the property for valuables. You will then return home and explain what has happened to Father Satish."

"Yes, My Lady!"

"Right away, ma'am!"

"We won't fail you again, Lady Shila!"

Shila dismissed them all with a wave. They dispersed immediately, leaving her alone with her targets. She looked down at them calmly, tilting her head slightly to the side as if she were a curios little girl rather than a killer.

"P-please!" the father suddenly exclaimed, finding his courage in the absence of her siblings. "Take whatever you'd like, just please spare my son!"

_Foolish man,_ she thought dully. _Although I must commend his bravery._

She ignored his plea, instead turning her attention to the young boy. Like his parents, he sat on the ground, hugging his knees to his chest as he shook, silent tears streaming down his face. Shila crouched before him, her yellow eyes meeting his.

"Fire isn't to be feared, child," she told him, summoning her flames so that they now consumed her finger tips. She held her hand between herself and the child, the fire dancing around her fingers as they flicked from red to yellow to blue. "It is both life and death. Fire is beautiful." She cupped his cheek in her hand, his mother letting out a choked sob as she watched helplessly.

"Be quiet, stupid woman. Unlike my siblings, I have control. His skin will not burn," Shila snapped, her mood suddenly soured. This family was weak, and Shila had no patience for weakness. She sighed again – and to think, she had hoped this mission would be _fun_. "…Unless I want it to."

"Please! Just tell us what you want!" the woman begged despite Shila's previous warning. Shila felt the fire within her grow, and in a flash of temper she allowed for her hungry flames to lick the boy's cheek. His scream was piercing, and within seconds he was on the ground, writhing in agony with his hands clutching his cheek.

The woman scrambled to reach out to her son, but her husband restrained her. "Do you want to make things worse?" he hissed into her ear.

Shila grinned wickedly, her once even temperament now gone. "Your husband has more sense than you. I suggest you listen to him." She glanced down at the boy one last time, a frown tugging at her full lips.

She stood, her arms swinging limply at her sides, her beautiful flames extinguished for the time being. "It disgusts me how the rich act," she began, her tone cold. "The Ajibana's contribute to this horrible war only for personal gain. You indirectly kill others, and yet you have the audacity to beg for my mercy?" She let out a sharp, bitter laugh. "No one as selfish as yourselves deserve to live."

Shila's eyes flashed dangerously, and she clenched her fists, the subtle command causing for both adults to go up in flames. The screams only lasted a split second before they were gone; Shila's flames were too hot, and she watched with a troubled expression as their flesh melted away, leaving behind nothing but a smoldering heap of ash and bones.

Tears welled up in the young woman's eyes suddenly, and she turned her back on the scene, taking several steps away and tilting her face upwards to take in the starry sky. Three deaths, three kills. She'd had far worse nights, but the toll it took was all the same.

"Fire is life," she said to no one in particular. "My burden is too heavy to bear."

She closed her eyes, letting a few stray tears trickle down her cheeks. Behind her, much to her surprise, she felt the boy begin to stir. She hadn't finished him, but he hadn't been a target to begin with.

_I let my temper get the better of me_. She should never have hurt the child, and immediately she felt regret. To kill a target was one thing, but to kill an innocent, to her, was unforgiveable.

Children of Fire were known for their short tempers. Shila, carrying within her the element's purest form, was no exception; if anything, being kissed by fire made her emotions fluctuate more than her siblings, but she thankfully was more disciplined than they were.

She heard the child stumble to his feet, pausing for a moment before charging at her, a tiny battle cry tumbling from his lips. Shila whirled around easily, knocking him aside with a single hand. He stayed down this time, his burnt face contorting in grief. She felt a pang of pity; he couldn't have been older than ten, and yet his life had already known so much suffering.

Shila smiled kindly down at him, the child returning her gaze with defiant hatred in his eyes. She was impressed by his lack of fear. She crouched before him once again, this time cupping his chin in her hand, forcing his wide eyes to peer into her own.

"I am not sorry for what has happened, but I am sorry that you must live through this," she told him softly, brushing hair back from his face gently, as would a mother to her child. "Your parent's crimes were not your own. You are not a target."

The Ajibana family was one of the older houses in the Earth Kingdom. They had once owned bountiful mines that had made their family unbelievably rich and powerful, but said mines had recently become less fruitful. They had since fallen into less reputable practices, forcing their miners to go too deep for too little pay. In order to stretch their dwindling fortune, they had also begun investing in the war effort. With conquest, many had found, came new lands and wealth. Father Satish does not tolerate such behavior, and so they had been targeted.

The child still seemed at a loss for words, overcome by his pain and grief. "Your suffering will never pass," she told him sagely. "But it will make you strong. No one is stronger than those who once paid the ultimate price for weakness."

Shila turned his face to the side, looking down with distaste at the ugly mark scarring his cheek. _That stupid woman just_ had _to push me,_ she thought with a scowl. Her handprint was etched into his flesh, the mark sticky and red. It would leave a scar - that much was certain.

Shila stood, her self-loathing threatening to overcome her. "You're a brave boy," she said. "I respect that quality, which is why you will live tonight. I invite you to find me again someday, when you're strong enough and fueled by enough hatred to stand a chance against me."

And with that she turned, exiting the same way she'd arrived. Her siblings had long since departed and were most likely at home receiving their punishments. Shila began to subconsciously walk home despite the blankness of her mind.

She always felt numb after a mission. It was easier, she found, to feel nothing in the face of so many emotions. Taking the lives of others slowly sapped away at her own humanity, she knew, but she would continue until it killed her.

_For Father Satish._ Everything was for him, for he'd once given her everything. He'd saved her from her pain - he'd given her a _purpose._

Shila clenched her fists, her skin oddly sticky. Glancing down she realized that her hands were bloody, most likely from touching the face of that boy.

Tears once again spilled down her cheeks. Yes, she would do anything for Father Satish. She owed _everything_ to him. But that didn't keep her from wishing that her hands could remain clean, at least for a while.

Fire was life, but Shila brought only death.

* * *

It was late at night when Shila returned to the compound. The lamps had long since been extinguished, plunging the area into darkness. Curfew was long ago, and no one dared be out without permission. The darkness didn't bother her in the slightest; despite its size, Shila could navigate the compound from memory.

Her home sat on a great span of flat, cleared land isolated within an uninhabited forest. On it sat five buildings, each large enough to house several people, with two homes dedicated to Father Satish's use and the remaining three housing her siblings and their mothers. Shila lived in one of Father Satish's homes, the one he used to house guests and hold meetings.

Her room sat at the end of a long hallway on the second floor of the home. It was a moderately sized space – it held a comfortable bed, dresser, mirror, and a door that led to a small washroom. Not that it was important to her; she hardly spent time in the room, and when she did it was normally to sleep.

Tonight, however, she wasn't interested in sleep. Her mind was too heavily burdened for rest, a feeling she was quite accustomed to. Instead she went to her washroom, washing the blood from her skin in a water basin. Moonlight filtered in through a high window, etching out her features in the pale light.

Shila didn't bother to dry herself. Instead, gripping the edges of the basin with white knuckles, she regarded her reflection in the mirror before her. Her hair, still fastened in its usual braid down her back, had come slightly loose, allowing for dark brown curls to escape and fall around her face.

She brushed her hair back with damp fingers, then trailing her hand down the side of her face; over the edge of her sharp cheekbones, all the way down to the smooth brown skin of her chest. Her skin was darker than many of her siblings, a trait she'd inherited from her mother. In fact, she resembled her mother quite a bit, as loathe as she was to admit it.

Her faint freckles, full lips, wide nose. If it weren't for her amber eyes, almost seeming to glow in contrast with the mocha color of her skin, Shila would be identical to her mother. The more she grew, the more she resembled the woman.

Shila felt heat rise to her face, an angry flush painting her cheeks. She turned quickly from the mirror, storming out of the washroom and closing the door sharply behind her. She knew better than to get caught up in that line of thinking. For Shila, the subject of her mother was taboo. It was simply too painful. Instead she let out a sigh, as she often did, and sat on the edge of her bed.

_I've the strangest feeling,_ she thought. _I'm so sad and I can't seem to understand why._

Shila valued control. She controlled her element, controlled her siblings, but she could never seem to control her emotions. Control required understanding, and she refused to even acknowledge her pain.

A knock at her door snapped her out of her melancholy.

"Enter," she said.

The door swung open, revealing a tall, gangly young man. "Lady Shila," he greeted her with a lopsided grin.

The corners of her mouth quirked slightly. "Shingi," she replied. "To what do I owe the pleasure?"

Shingi was one of the few Children of Fire she could tolerate; actually, she was quite fond of the boy. She'd known him since Father Satish brought her to the compound, their closeness in age originally drawing them together, and their friendship was a comfortable one, as well as one of the only ones Shila actually had.

"Father Satish wishes to see you," he said, pausing with a frown. "It's unlike you to not report right away. Is everything okay?"

It _was_ unlike her – Shila was a stickler for protocol, so long as it was _Father Satish's_ protocol. She too was surprised that she'd forgotten, but she dismissed her surprise quickly. It was late; her mind felt numb and her heart heavy. She told herself that her lapse in character was simply due to fatigue.

_Emotional weakness is still weakness,_ she scolded, forcing herself to once again ignore the unease in the back of her mind. She'd been feeling increasingly _strange_ lately, and her tolerance with herself was growing thin.

"I'm fine," she answered shortly, rising from her seat. "It simply slipped my mind."

Shingi frowned but didn't press the matter further. He knew that Shila wasn't an open person – she could hardly open up to herself – and he must respect her wish for privacy.

"You gave the girls quite a scare, I heard," Shingi changed the subject as he led her to Father Satish. "They were practically _giddy_ with their punishment. I've never seen them so happy to get fifteen lashes."

Shila scowled, rolling her eyes dramatically. "They're idiots," she seethed. "They would've burned down the entire village had I not arrived." She paused, adding with a mock pout, "And I only threatened them."

Shingi snorted. "And killed one."

Shila sighed, waving a hand dismissively. "They're nothing more than animals. It's why I prefer solo missions."

"They still share your blood, it's bad luck to spill it yourself," he told her, his voice still holding hints of amusement.

"Oh, enough with the silly superstitions." She crossed her arms as if annoyed, but her mood was undeniably lightened. Shingi could always make her smile.

They then arrived at Father Satish's office, the great wooden doors left slightly ajar. Shila straightened herself, pushing back her shoulders and nodding at her friend before entering the room.

Father Satish sat at his desk, his back turned to her as he looked out a large window. Immediately, Shila threw herself into a respectful bow, her forehead pressed against the cold floor.

"Rise," he said, his voice deep and gravelly. Shila's heart fluttered at the very sound of his voice; Father Satish always had this affect over her, his mere presence filled her with joy, but also a great fear. Her fear was understood – even expected – because to feel anything less than fear in the attendance of such a powerful man was ignorant and disrespectful.

Shila obeyed immediately, jumping to her feet, her posture once again rigid. He now faced her, and Shila met his familiar eyes with a blank expression. She would never show weakness in front of Father Satish.

"I do not usually have to remind you of your duties. Begin your report," he said shortly, his annoyance with her behavior causing her stomach to drop. She couldn't bear his disappointment.

Shila began to recount the events of her mission in a toneless voice, careful not to miss a single detail. Throughout her explanation, Father Satish's face remained devoid of expression: his heavy brow shadowing his yellow eyes, black hair a sharp contrast with his pale skin. He had the sharp, angular features of the Fire Nation.

"Two were targeted, and instead you kill three and injure one," Father Satish said upon the completion of her report, the slight downturn of his mouth making his displeasure evident. Shila's blood ran cold with shame.

"I allowed for things to get out of hand. I will accept any punishment you deem just."

Father Satish shook his head in response. "I will allow for a warning, just this once," he told her. "Besides, I have another mission for you."

_Another mission? But I've just returned from the last!_ She wanted to argue – it was tiring, taking so many lives – but she would sooner die than question an order from Father Satish. She owed him her absolute obedience.

Her mind wandered back to the day he'd discovered her: small and cold, he'd found her in a dirty two-room shack crying over a pile of ash that had once been a makeshift doll. It was also the day she'd discovered her bending, and she refused to believe that the two incidents were entirely unrelated.

After all, Father Satish had been the one to give her the gift of fire.

Yes, she would obey. She would always obey.

* * *

Shila returned to her room nearly an hour later, falling immediately onto her bed. She felt drained, especially when mulling over the task Father Satish had given her, but it did nothing to lessen her evident insomnia. She was correct in her earlier assumption that she would not sleep that night.

Children of Fire did not accept all missions, or rather Father Satish did not accept all missions; he was a man of deep moral conviction, a quality that she quite admired, and therefore he did not take a hit lightly. He would only sentence a guilty person to death – one guilty of crimes of inhumanity. War crimes, usually. This disgusting war had bred so much hatred into the world, so much suffering, that Shila had a plethora of targets to eradicate.

But a Prince? She'd never been tasked with a mission of such difficulty, not that this particularly surprised her; she was the strongest Child of Fire, aside from Father Satish himself, and was tasked with the most important missions.

The mission was unlike her usual tasks though, and certainly required more espionage than she'd needed in the past. She was to go undercover; to infiltrate the ship of a banished Fire Nation Prince and gather information on the whereabouts of the Avatar before exterminating her two targets.

" _Their names are Prince Zuko and General Iroh. They're responsible for the deaths of innocents and therefore must be punished, but our client asks that we use his resources to discover the fate of the Avatar before acting,"_ Father Satish had explained, but offered no additional information.

She'd accepted the job without complaint, but now unease gnawed at her gut. The task at hand seemed impossible: not only was she to take out two members of the royal family, one was the _Dragon of the West_! Shila was familiar with the tales of his conquests, and although his contributions to the war disgusted her, she couldn't ignore his apparent strength. He was a fire bending _master,_ and that was a title not to be taken lightly.

The matter of infiltrating Prince Zuko's ranks was another troubling issue. She knew nothing of him or the level of security on the ship. Thus far, her best idea was to pose as a stowaway.

Shila simply couldn't seem to be able to shake her nerves, and the anxiety was beginning to annoy her.

"You need to control your emotions," she reprimanded herself. "Father Satish will not tolerate any more mistakes."

But she _couldn't_ ; her control was wavering, as she'd demonstrated on her previous mission, and she didn't understand the cause of it. It felt as though she was forgetting something.

As though guided by her subconscious, her thoughts yet again began to shift towards her memories of her mother. Her familiar face suddenly came to mind and the fire bender had to struggle to hold back tears.

She refused to cry over that wretched woman. She'd entirely convinced herself that she _hated_ her, so why did her memory fill her with so much guilt and grief? The woman was dead, as she had been for a long time.

_She was a weak woman,_ she reminded herself. _She caused you incredible pain._

Still, Shila found herself walking across the room, slowly pulling out the top drawer of her dresser. Inside it sat a long, black box. She retrieved the box, closing the drawer and setting the item on the top surface of the dresser, opening the box and pulling out its contents.

Within it sat a long, lethal-looking silver blade. It had a black hilt, the wicked curve of the knife causing the polished silver to glint in the moonlight, revealing its faintly etched calligraphy:

" _Only fire can extinguish darkness."_

Shila held the blade with shaking hands, the tears that she'd been fighting to repress suddenly streaming down her cheeks. She realized with a shock what had been bothering her, the memory finally revealing itself to her from the depths of her subconscious.

It had been five years today, then. She could hardly believe so much time had passed since her mother's death, and despite her reluctance to admit it, the guilt and sadness she'd been experiencing was entirely related to her demise.

It wasn't exactly difficult to understand the reason behind her emotions: five years ago, on that very night, Shila had slid this dagger into her mother's neck.

* * *

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoyed! I apologize for errors, and look forward to your feedback.
> 
> There's clearly been an extreme time jump here (about 15 years since the prologue took place), so a lot has changed. Shila doesn't have all of the knowledge about her past that we do, she only has her memories, so her motivations and past will be revealed slowly as we continue. I hope everything is coming together alright so far! Again, this is my first story as an AO3 author, so getting this uploaded can be a little confusing for me ^^;


End file.
